No Guts, No Glory
by wino4ever
Summary: Terriers. Hank and Gretchen's teenage daughter, Max, acts out due to Gretchen's pending nuptials. This causes problems for Hank as he and Britt try to deal with their heavy case load.
1. Another Phone Call

Sand and ocean water at his feet. The sun beating down on his shoulders. A light breeze in the air. It was a calm, quiet setting. A nice change from the chaos that had been the past twenty six hours. Another case with Britt. Yes, they solved it and collected their generous pay, but Hank was worn out physically because of it. Due to falling out of a two story window into some bushes. Not as fun as it sounds.

Britt, of course, got a kick out of it. After asking if he was okay twice, he went into a hysterics fit that lasted the entire drive back. Hank grunted silently, trying to ignore the increasing back pain and pain in his ass that was his partner. He loved him, but yeah. He was a pain in the ass.

Sand. Water. Sun. Breeze. The dream was going so well. But per usual, something had to interrupt the serene fantasy world that was being created for himself...

...ring, ring.

_Shit_.

Hank groaned, turned over, and checked his buzzing cell phone on the nightstand. His eyes narrowed and then widened when he saw the name.

"Gretch? What's wrong?" Hank asked, concerned. Only breathing in response. He was on his feet, pulling on jeans, in less than a second. "How long?"

"Um, I don't know." His ex-wife choked out, sounding more than a little embarrassed. "She shut the door after dinner at around seven-thirty. I heard her music until nine. I checked on her at ten and... we had a fight before, but she seemed okay. You know how she gets."

"Mm-hm. She gets it from me. The miraculous wonder of conception." Hank muttered into the receiver, trying to find a t-shirt. "And when you checked in on her she was gone?"

"Yeah. I'm... I _hate_ it when she does this, Hank. Should I call the police?"

"No. I've always been able to find her. Haven't I?" Hank asked her. "I know where she goes. She doesn't hide from me."

"What does that mean?" Gretchen spat.

"Nothing... it doesn't mean anything. What I'm trying to say is it's a phase, Gretch. She's fourteen. We're divorced. We live apart. You're getting married again. We have full time jobs. She's almost in high school. I could go on. She deserves a little acting out time, don't you think?"

"It's destructive behavior. You've seen what happens in this city. You know the risks she's taking."

Hank was about to answer, but stopped himself. She was right. Anything could happen nowadays it seemed like. He heard Gretchen take a deep breath and then she got quiet for a few seconds. That meant she was close to tears, but was forcing herself not to let anyone know it. He knew the emotion well. In the last few years of their marriage, she did it at least once a week. Still it wasn't easy to watch or listen to and made his heart sink every time.

"You gonna be okay after I hang up? I can stay on the phone with you."

"Just find our daughter and bring her back, okay? Then I will be."

"Roger that. I'll call you when I find her."

Hank reached for his keys on the counter top after hanging up. "Goddamn it, Max." He mumbled, heading to the door. "Never a break."


	2. Finding Max

Max forced her eyes open for a third time, still trying to wane off sleep. She pushed a few strands of her black bangs back and sighed, keeping her thoughts occupied from the fight she and her mother had at dinner about the guy she was going to marry. Using the term fiancee or his actual name was out of the question - at least for her - it made the whole thing less real. The fact that there was a set date was hard enough.

Scary was a more accurate word. He would be living in the house she grew up in. Using their silverware. The bathroom. The garage. The bedroom her parents shared. And to make matters worse, they were moving out as soon as the house sold, so she would have to make new memories somewhere else.

Things would be completely different after the wedding. A girl at school told her that after her mom married her stepfather, she saw less and less of her father. And that wasn't her choice. Max promised herself after hearing the story that she would never let that happen. She would never love this other man in any capacity, or even acknowledge his existence. Having one father was enough.

He stopped drinking months ago, and as far as she knew hadn't fallen off the wagon since. She knew he still loved her mother. That was almost too obvious. All Max had to do was bring her up and his body language would change, which is why she hadn't done it lately. And her mother knew how he felt, but still wanted to marry "him".

Movement at the corner of her eye caused Max to glance at the shore. A dark figure was slowly moving towards her. Maybe so she wouldn't notice them. She looked around frantically for anyone who could hear her scream, or for a direction she could run. But there was nothing. Just endless sand and water both ways. Why did she walk so far down the beach?

Her body trembled, teeth chattering inadvertently, as she tried to think of what to do next. The whole "running away to piss off her mom" thing was still new to her and she wasn't exactly very streetwise. In fact, she was afraid of her own shadow, especially since her father moved out of the house. She would stay awake in bed at night fantasizing about someone breaking in and him not being there to stop them. It was stupid, yes, but still a valid fear.

She wasn't exactly the most intimidating looking girl either. Most people considered her small for her age.

As the figure moved closer, Max could make out more details. He was a man with a beard, wore dark clothing, and carried a satchel over one shoulder. Probably homeless. She had encountered a homeless man once before about a mile from where she was, but he had white hair and ignored her completely. He was too busy rambling to himself. When her father found her two hours later, she left that small detail out. He would have gone ballistic.

Hoping the man hadn't seen her yet, Max scooted her body around one of the wooden beams of the pier, hugging her large purse against her chest. She gasped when his shoes started to make crunching sounds in the sand. Suddenly, he was hovering in front of her pulling at the purse, trying to pry it from her grip. She knew she should let go, but the fear was so paralyzing that she just held onto it tighter.

"I don't have anything!" Max shouted through terrified breaths. She looked down at his pocket and saw something small reflecting light. It looked like a knife, but she couldn't be sure. When he reached for whatever it was, she let out a shrill scream, hoping someone would hear her. He was too big to even attempt to get around.

Max quickly dropped her purse and scooted back against the wooden beam again. The man pulled out the object from his pocket, pointing it at her. It was a small pocket knife. She screamed again, louder this time (if that was possible), and when the man stepped closer another figure dropped from the dock above. They both went down in a heap in the sand and started struggling for the weapon.

Max pulled her knees to her chest, watching the fight with wide, tear filled eyes. The man gave up quickly, dropping the purse and the knife. That's when she recognized the other voice.

"Get away from the knife!" They shouted.

Max released a breath. He always knew where to find her. The man scurried away in the opposite direction.

"Hey! Get back here!" They shouted again and started running after the man.

"No! Daddy, don't leave!" Max said, starting to cry softly.

Hank turned back to his shaken daughter, running a hand through his hair. "Okay... no, I'm not going anywhere, baby. I'm sorry." He responded softly. Looking down at her, it reminded him of the women he would deal with on domestic abuse calls. He didn't want to think about what would have happened if he hadn't of heard her screaming.

He turned back to the running man's back that was almost out of sight. "Asshole! You're lucky I didn't arrest you!"

When Max looked up a few seconds later, Hank was knelt down to her level asking questions. "Hey," He said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, "you. Rugrat. Are you hurt? Stuck anywhere I should know about?"

"Mm-mm." said Max, shaking her head. Hank helped her stand up with both hands. "H...he just wanted my bag. Was, um, was that a...knife?"

Hank put an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. "It's over. I've got to call Mom. She's worried like crazy over you."

"I know."

"Yeah, I know you do." Hank said, giving her a look before dialing Gretchen. He got off the phone with her and they started down the beach. "Do me a favor, okay, light of my life? This will be lesson number... sixty something rather. The next time a guy you've never seen before, who is probably of the criminal persuasion, attempts to forcibly take something from you, better known as stealing, and there's no one around to help- let them have it. _Especially_ if they have a weapon and you don't."

"Sorry." Max mumbled, eyes on the sand below her. "I was scared. I wasn't thinking about anything else."

"Well, of course you were scared!" Hank suddenly exploded, not at her, but at the situation. "You're a kid and he was a total asshole who's said ass I'd like to be kicking right about now."

"Daddy." Max warned softly, a small smirk forming on her tiny face. He was always accidentally cursing in front of her.

"Sorry... sorry. Do you promise to be careful though? You can't keep running off like this. Making your mom crazy, making _me_ crazy. This is really- it's important."

Max nodded, looking up at him. "Yeah, okay. I will. How pissed is she?"

"Scale of one to ten? Twelve, at the most. Maybe twelve point five if we factor in that you're our only child and if anything ever happened to you we'd both blame ourselves for the rest of our lives."

Max sniffled, wiping tears at the corners of her eyes. Hank looked over at her. "Joke. Not really. You sure you're okay?"

"Just freaked out. I'll be okay." Max answered and leaned her head against his jacket sleeve. Hank felt her body shaking and hooked an arm around her protectively. "You can't arrest anyone anymore."

Hank snorted. "Scare tactic. It worked, didn't it?" He noticed how tired his daughter looked and dropped to his knees in the sand. "Hop on. It's only half a mile. Speaking of which, did you have to walk all the way down to the freakin' pier?"

"Apparently." Max retorted as she willed her knees to stop wobbling so she could jump on her father's back. She secured her arms around his neck and they started walking again. She pointed at the shore when she saw a cool seashell. "Pick that one up."

"Oh. Very nice." Hank said. He picked up the shell and slipped it in his pocket. "By the way, you're grounded until you're eighteen for the semi heart attack that I just had, which means no dating until then. Too bad for you."

"Thanks for coming to get me." Max said, leaning her chin on his shoulder.

"Any time, rugrat."


End file.
